You all know I love my place. I love that Odin is right here, up close and a major part of my little pack of animals that is my home. If I had my way, I’d build a house that included a stall for him so that he could come inside at night with the dogs and I. Ah, maybe one day… But now, I am moving. The reality of it all is that I can’t afford to go through another winter here. Heating this house ate all my income and threw everything else into the wind. I have to move.
This place here is cursed. From the get-go, it was tainted. Long story short, when I first moved to Arkansas, things didn’t turn out the way they appeared. Though I took a long time to research and get to know the people concerned before moving here, what I ended up in was a nightmare of unbelievable proportions. The crisis was resolved by yet another person who professed to be a friend that took control, found this piece of land and planted my ass here. This “here” is a wreck that I never had the money to put into to make it a decent, livable place to be. But, the land is good pasture, and I made the best of it. For almost 6 years I made the best of it. I moved from a crisis and into a wreck.
I’m not one to hold a grudge or judge the motivation behind this friend’s seeming need to rescue me. I was in no condition to argue, or even question, at the time. Needless to say, things got worse before they got better, and thanks to a prescription for antidepressants and a clearer frame of mind, I got back up on the horse, so to say, and began to build a life again. I paid off my debt to her in service in kind long ago and kept doing it in support of what she set out to accomplish. Way past the point of free and clear, she did nothing but complain and demand, demand and complain, and drain me dry. Finally, the last straw broke last week and I cut the ties. I had to. I had to get out from under that negative thumb. The weight lifted. No longer under that huge dampening influence, I felt glad. Yes, it is sad to break away from someone who has been a part of life for 7 years or so, but then again, it also feels like what I imagine getting out of prison must feel.
I found a cute house in a nearby small town to rent. It is an older home, very unique and warm and welcoming. It will be home for me until I can build that house with a horse stall in it. I won’t be able to keep Odin with me, but he will be in a good, safe place. I’ll get out to see him as often as I can, and he’ll have other horses to be with. I’m dying inside, but we’ll be back together again soon enough. The dogs will be with me, and that is a relief. There is a fenced in area in the back yard for them to spend their days, safe and sound. The house is solid, cool in this heat and will be warm in the winter. It’s closer to work and the conveniences of the city, yet in a quiet area… and there’s trees.
But, one of my dogs won’t be coming. Chloe, my German Shepherd, stepped out in front of a pickup truck last night and was killed. She died right away and didn’t suffer. She was 12 years old and failing, and it was time to have her put to sleep. I’m glad that she is out of pain now.
There’s a lot of work and a lot more changes and challenges ahead. I’m glad for them, and sad. Very glad and very sad. All at once.